


Then a Sweetheart's

by orphan_account



Series: Czlowiek Stworzony Jest z Milości i do Milości [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, All Human AU, Gen, M/M, Stiles/Lydia SIBLINGS au, also Christmas, heavy emphasis on Stilinski's being Polish AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:36:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Alright, alright, we'll ask when we get up there, okay bud? But you can't be sad if he says no. He's probably gotta triple check the list.” The man scoops the kid into his arms and grins at him and Derek's heart skips a traitorous beat.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then a Sweetheart's

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh okay this has been super fun! First and foremost, a HUGE thank you to lonewolfed for being my Polish translator; seriously, I’m not usually so intent about other languages in fics, but it was needed and she helped SO MUCH.
> 
> Second, while you read I know it may seem like the Polish is kind of arbitrary, but I promise there are sequels planned for this wherein I hope to give as much literacy and meaning to the bits of Polish as I can.
> 
> THIRD: This is an all human, future fic, Stiles-and-Lydia-are-siblings-and-Lydia-has-a-kid AU.
> 
> :D
> 
> (Translations at the end.)

“Look January, it’s an elf!”

The voice rings over the mill of the crowd; even over the hum of angry parents and crying children and stomping feet and Derek’s life falling apart, the voice is loud and clear and genuine. Derek turns toward the sound and sees the source not far in the line.

It’s a young man with buzz cut hair, holding the hand of a shaggily blond haired toddler; the toddler and the young man alike are staring at the ‘Santa’s Workshop’ the mall sets up with dazzled eyes. Derek snickers under his breath.

“January, you wanna get a picture with Santa, right?”

The kid shrugs as he chews on the sleeve of his shirt. His wide blue eyes fall again on Derek. “What about th’elf?” He asks around his chewing.

The young man turns and follows January’s—seriously what kind of name is January—gaze to Derek. “You sure, buddy? The elf must be pretty busy.” The young man grins at him though, mouths ‘sorry.’  
“But Thileth!” The kid shouts, his front teeth big in his mouth and making him lisp. Derek chuckles a little harder.

“Alright, alright, we’ll ask when we get up there, okay bud? But you can’t be sad if he says no. He’s probably gotta triple check the list.” The man scoops the kid into his arms and grins at him and Derek’s heart skips a traitorous beat.

)

Forty five minutes later, the man and January are at the front of the line, grinning and red cheeked. “Hey, Mr. Elf!” The man cheers. “Say hi, January!”

“Hi!” January’s arms shoot out and he makes grabby hands at Derek.

“January, that’s not polite, is it?”

The kid pouts, and before Derek can stop himself he taking the kid into his arms and grinning back. “Have you been a good kid this year?”

January’s face lights up and his little hands play with the bells on Derek’s heinous elf outfit. “Yeth thir!”

The man is following close behind, rambling. “I’m sorry, I gave him too many candy canes before we left and he just hasn’t crashed yet, his mom is gonna kill me, but it’s Santa, you know? It’s the best part!”

Derek looks over his shoulder, still leading them to Santa—who currently has an especially chatty kid on his lap at the moment—and smiles. “It’s alright. He’s much more behaved than most.”

The man beams. “Good, I’d hate to make your job harder; I worked as an elf for a Christmas and it was just awful, it was like the year of the Hellions.”

Derek grins. He looks over just as the parents finally take away the chatty kid, who’s still talking as they walk away, and hands January back to the man. “Alright, you ready for Santa?”

January opens his mouth in a low whine. The man hushes him, but January isn’t stopping. “But Thileth you thaid!”

He looks stricken and guilty as he looks at Derek. “Sorry, but you’re apparently his favorite elf, do you mind?”

Derek grins. “Not at all.”

It takes some maneuvering, and a few shifty but amused glances from Santa, but January ends up in Santa’s lap, holding Derek’s and the man’s hands with a beaming grin. Another elf, behind the camera, actually ‘aw’s before snapping a few different shots. Derek finally has to wave him off before he goes full on photographer and makes them pose and just no.

The man picks up January again and they step to the side; Derek’s shift is almost over as it is, and Santa waves him off when he hesitates. The man leans on a giant lit up candy cane and grins. “Thanks for dealing with that. He’s kind of a goofball.”

Derek smiles. “It’s no problem.” He tenses but keeps talking. “A lot of kids, ah, think I’m.”

“Intense?” The man supplies.

Derek nods.

“You are, but I like this. His mom is kind of the same way.”

Derek burns to ask—your wife? But he refrains, barely. “I’m holding you up, I’m sure you have a lot of Christmas shopping to do.”

The man grins. “Not really, but you probably wanna get out of that thing as soon as possible,” he gestures to the red and green tights, red and green hat, shoes, shirt and shorts and just red and green everything.

Derek laughs softly. “Yeah.”

“See you around, then!” The man waves and whispers to January. “Say bye!”

“Bye mithter!”

Derek’s left with a permanent smile.

)

“Stiles, is that you?”

“Yeah, sis!”

Lydia walks into the room and smiles at her son, “did you have a good day?”

January nods and runs to his mother. “We met an elf!”

“Oh?” Lydia stands after ruffling her son’s hair. “Cute?” She asks Stiles with a smirk.

Stiles flushes. “Devastatingly handsome.” He pulls the envelope of pictures from his pocket and hands it over.

Lydia snickers and leads January to the kitchen. “Wanna make cookies, my aniolek?” January beams.

“Yeah!”

)

Later, after January has been put to bed, Lydia and Stiles sit in the kitchen sipping wine. Or rather, Lydia fills two wine glasses to the brim with rich red wine, hands one to Stiles, and stares at him until he breaks.

“He’s handsome and funny and he loves January and I could see the outline of his dick oh my god.” His head thunks onto the kitchen table. “I’m losing control of my life.”

Lydia nods sagely, as she does, while taking a measure, graceful, overly large sip of wine. “Was he into you?”

“He was into your kid.” Stiles moans from where his head is crushed into the table.

Lydia shakes her head. “No deviously handsome man would be that cute and that polite for some kid.”

Stiles raises his head only to glare at Lydia. “I hate you and your gorgeous kid.”

“You reside in this gene pool, too, y’know.”

“You got all the good parts.”

Lydia shrugs as she pours herself a little more wine. “I think you got the cuter nose.”

Stiles just groans and weeps into his hands and wine.

)

Stiles is exhausted and mildly hungover—after finishing off the bottle of wine, they broke out the beers and that hit Stiles hard—and keeps pushing his cart into cardboard display thingies. He narrowly avoids running over a child, swears, and apologizes to a disapproving mother. He finally feels free of other people when he finally does run into another customer. Or more specifically, their cart.

“Oh, uh, hi?” A very, very familiar voice sounds.

Stiles’ head whips up from where he’d been miserably counting how many cans of cat food were in his cart, throbs, and he winces. “Uh, hi. Elf. Hi Elf.” He waves and closes his eyes because suddenly everything is far too bright.

“You alright?” The Elf guy is coming forward with a concerned and outstretched hand.

Stiles waves him off with the best smile he can muster. “I’m fine, fine. Just hungover.”

The man nods. “How’s, uh,” he swallows, “January?”

Stiles blinks. “Dude you remembered his name.”

“You don’t meet kids named January all that often.”

Stiles grins. “Nah, if you knew his full name you’d remember it even better. You wouldn’t be able to pronounce it, but you’d remember it.”

The man grins. “I’m Derek.” He holds out a hand again. Stiles cautiously takes it, relishing the strong and warm grip that matches his own large hand.

“Stiles.”

Derek blinks. “What kind of name is that?” He looks stricken, then, and opens his mouth in a way that Stiles knows is to produce a hasty apology.

“My dad’s side of the family is Polish; my mom had a deep fascination with Polish culture. What happened was a ridiculously difficult to pronounce name for me, and my sister being named Lydia.”

Derek blinks.

Stiles gulps. “Didn’t mean to tell you my whole life story, sorry.”

Derek grins. “It’s okay. It’s interesting. What’s your full name?”

“No,” Stiles rolls his eyes, “nope. Nope.”

Derek even goes so far to pout, but with another solemn headshake from Stiles he lets it drop. He checks his watch, and his mouth tightens. “I have to go. It was good to see you again.” Derek tells Stiles, genuinely.

Stiles beams. “You’ll probably see us again; January loves you, he’ll wanna go back.” Stiles shrugs, and they shake hands once more, and then Derek is gone.

)

Stiles nearly impales himself on his car’s antennae when someone honks at him in passing. Looking up from where he’s nearly speared himself in the eye, he sees Derek driving past, waving, in a black Camaro with equally black sunglasses on. Stiles waves back and hates his life a little more because how is this fair?

)

Derek berates himself frequently and heavily for getting so excited every time he sees someone with a buzzcut. Some of the people his gaze snaps to don’t even look like Stiles, but even just a glimpse of half an inch of brown hair is enough to have Derek on his knees.

It stops, mostly, when he brains himself on one of the heavy, dangerous, dangling snowflakes of the display for the ‘Winter Wonderland’ at work.

)

“January, no.”

The wailing begins immediately. Stiles groans and rubs for a moment at his temples before digging January’s favorite teddy out of his little backpack.

“January, see, Mr. Bear is here!” He kneels down again and waves it in front of his nephew. “See? He misses you!” January takes the bear into his arms, though his eyes are still wet with tears. “Now, you wouldn’t want Mr. Bear to get jealous, would you?”

January shakes his head.

“And if you brought home another friend, Mr. Bear’s feelings would be hurt, wouldn’t they?”

January nods, grinning now as he holds the bear tighter.

“We good?”

“Yeth Thileth!”

Stiles stands, grinning, and keeps an eye on January as they continue past a large display of stuffed animals. They’re back at the mall so that Stiles can finally buy Lydia’s, and Scott’s, and Alison’s Christmas presents. The only ones he’s bought so far are January’s and his father’s.

“Thileth! Look! It’th the elf!”

Stiles looks up and, indeed, sees Derek in normal clothes staring down a kiosk working with too much make up on. The kiosk worker, that is. She has too much make up on. Not Derek.

Stiles takes a moment to internally reiterate that he is losing control of his life.

“Can we thay hi?”

“Oh, no, January, he’s busy. Christmas is next week, you know!”

January pouts but nods. “He’th gotta get ready. Lot’th of houthes.” January spits a little on the ‘s’ but it’s painfully cute.

Stiles moves to keep walking towards the Bath & Body Works store, but Derek is looking straight at him. Stiles grins and waves, and before he can react January is bounding up to Derek. Without hesitation, Derek kneels and scoops the kid up, smiling as he walks towards Stiles.

“Hey you.”

Stiles swallows noisily. “Hey. Sorry. He’s crazy. His mom’s at work, and he doesn’t quite grasp the fact that he can’t get anything because he’s getting tons of stuff for Christmas.”

Derek grins and hoists January higher. “Hey little guy.”

January beams, eyes drooping.

“Oh boy, he’s tired.” Stiles takes a step forward and takes January from Derek’s arms. “I told him not to get up so early, but he just doesn’t listen, you know?”

Derek shrugs. “Don’t have kids.”

“Not even relatives?” Stiles asks, eyes wide.

Derek tenses and a lump forms in his throat. “No. Not. Not anymore.”

Stiles’ eyes widen further. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry.”

Derek smiles weakly. “It’s not so bad now. But, yeah. Never had much experience outside working—being an elf.”

Both of their gazes flick to January, but he’s fast asleep and drooling on Stiles’ shoulder.

“You busy?” Derek asks, breath rushed.

Stiles tilts his head. “No. Just gotta grab something for his mom, and some of my friend’s, is all.” Stiles nods down the way to the fragrance store. “Wanna come along?” Stiles’ heart pounds painfully hard; sure, he’s always been impulsive and crazy and attention deficit but never like this.

Derek nods, lips tight. But his dimples are showing and there’s a lightly turned down curve to his lips suggesting he’s stifling a smile.

Stiles drags him into Bath & Body Works to pick up some of Lydia’s favorite fragrance—Twisted Peppermint, rich and sharp and he buys enough to steal some, too. Then he drags Derek to the T-Mobile store because Scott desperately needs a new phone case and Alison is pitching in for the brand new thirty dollar cases. Finally, he drags Derek to Spencer’s, because he knows Alison has been eying one of the shirts there.

Afterward, he stands awkwardly next to Derek near the for court. “So, this was fun.” They were mostly silently. Derek was mostly silent, really. Stiles didn’t’ stop talking. January just slept.

Derek nods. “I. Yeah. You’re.” He groans and sighs through his nose. “Sorry.”

Stiles grins at Derek’s expense. “It’s okay. It was fun. It’s kind of weird to be running into you literally everywhere, but it’s nice.”

Derek nods; January whines softly and blinks sleepy eyes awake. “Thileth m’hungry.”

“Oh, okay buddy. We’ll get home and have dinner with your mom, okay? She should be home by now.”

January grins sleepily and pleased before resting his head on Mr. Bear again.

“I guess I’ll see you around!”

Derek nods and waves him off. “You probably will.”

)

They do.

It’s at a bar when Stiles is out with Scott; Scott, who’s mourning the fact he can’t muster up the balls to finally ask Alison to marry him, and Stiles who’s taking Scott out in hopes of injecting him with some liquid courage.

All that happens, really, is Scott laying on the stage and halfheartedly singing poor karaoke. Stiles stays at the bar and sips his water, snickering.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Stiles spills his water all over his shirt with a loud swear. He twists on the seat and comes nose to nose with Derek.

“Ah. Uh. Designated driver.”

Derek smirks and turns to the bartender. “Two more waters, please.”

Stiles cocks a brow. “You didn’t have to.” But he takes the napkins Derek hands him. “But thanks.”

“No problem.” Derek looks to the stage. “He with you?”

“Best friend since I was six.”

Derek sips his water silently. “He’s awful.”

“This actually isn’t too bad if you knew his track record.”

Derek snorts.

They sit in silence for a few minutes further, and Stiles has nearly gathered the courage to ask the question that’s on the tip of his tongue when Derek speaks first.

“So, is January your kid?”

Stiles’ brow furrows, cinching together. “No. He’s my nephew. My sister Lydia? I mentioned her, y’know, she got the normal name? January is her kid. I’m just the coolest uncle ever.”

Derek blinks and looks a little frightened. “Where’s the dad, then?”

“Overseas, military.”

Derek ‘oh’s softly. “Ah, then. Is there a. Uh.”

Stiles waits, because he thinks he knows what Derek is going to ask but the last time he was in a situation like this, he thought Scott was suggesting they make out for practice and that’s something they no longer speak of.

Basically, Stiles learned the hard way to never jump the gun.

“Are you busy for Christmas eve?” Stiles asks instead.

Derek shakes his head slowly. “I. I was just going to get some food and hang out at home.”

Stiles clucks his tongue in disapproval. “You should come to the grand Stilinski-McCall-Argent Christmas Bonanza.”

Derek blinks. “Really? You—would that be okay?”

“Course! Scott is bringing his girlfriend—Miss Argent. Scott is the McCall part of that. The more the merrier, right? Besides, January loves you.”

Derek smiles to himself, ducking his head. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Then you should go. Because your non-presence would be more intruding.”

“That made absolutely no sense.”

“Didn’t have to because now you have to go.”

“January still thinks I’m an elf.”

“You can be the guest of honor.”

Derek seems to be fighting an internal war with himself, and seems to find no other way to argue why he shouldn’t go. “Fine, fine. Address?”

Stiles holds out his own hand. “Phone.” Derek hands it over after unlocking it, and watches as Stiles taps in and saves his number then saves the apparent address in the Notes. “I should get Scott home. He’s not supposed to be out after midnight. He might convince me to feed him.”

Derek rolls his eyes and takes back his phone. “What time should I be there?”

“The fun doesn’t really start until six or so. Anytime just before or after that would work?”

“See you then.”

“Can’t wait.” They hesitate, arms almost stretched out in a hug before they just fist bump and part ways.

Derek watches as Stiles finally drags Scott—literally drags him—off the stage and out the door.

)

Derek stares at the little—okay, foot tall—teddy bear wrapped in a sweater with the Polish flag on it for approximately two minutes before grabbing it and stalking to the register.

)

He shows up on the doorstep of the address provided wearing his elf ears and a red-green sweater. He rings the doorbell as he shifts from foot to foot.

“Braciszek, get the door!”

“Lydia! Sheesh!” Stiles’ voice shouts, following by hushed mumbling that get’s louder as footsteps approach the door. As the door opens Derek catches just a moment of the mumbling, “Niewdzięczna siostra nigdy mnie nie docenia—Derek!” Stiles grins and this time there’s no hesitation as Stiles yanks him into a crushing hug.

Derek stammers out a hello and lets himself be dragged inside.

The inside of the modest house is bright, alive, bustling. There’s an unorthodox number of scents wafting from the kitchen; the hallway and seemingly the whole inside of the house is bathed in a gold flow of dim Christmas lights. Derek follows close at Stiles’ heels until they’re in the living room.

There’s a vibrant red head curled up in a recliner with January on her lap; on the couch, sprawled out, is Scott from the bar; Stiles beams at Derek. “Glad you could make it.”

“Of course.” Derek hesitates before holding out a neatly wrapped box. “For you.” He turns back to the door. “I left January’s present in the car.”

He darts out of the room, sprinting, taking in the fresh air to grab the poorly wrapped and overly large bear from the backseat. He hurries back inside and shoves the stuffed animal into Stiles’ arms. Stiles laughs, throwing back his head and puts both presents under the tree. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know. I wanted to.” Derek looks up awkwardly as a dark brunette enters the room carrying a tray of cups. “Uh, sorry. I didn’t.”

The red head waves him off. “It’s okay. So long as he’s happy.” She kisses January’s forehead and Derek takes it to mean she’s his mother. “So you’re that przystojniak my brother hasn’t shut up about?”

“Hey, your son is his biggest fan.” Stiles barks back.

“Maybe, but I know where my aniolek’s alliances lie.” She stares cross at Stiles, and he sticks out his tongue in return.

“Don’t mind her.” Stiles teases as he elbows Derek. “Wanna sit?”

The brunette—who Derek figures is Alison—shoves Scott off the couch to instead drag him over to the loveseat. Stiles tugs Derek towards the couch while snagging them each a cup of eggnog.

“So, Derek. Stiles and January tell me you’re an elf.”

“Part time.”

January, thankfully, is dozing like a rock in Lydia’s lap. “What do you do the rest of the time?”

“Odd jobs, mostly. I don’t need the money so much, but I like to be busy.”

Stiles is watching him intently. “Don’t need the money?”

“Oh, please, Stiles, like we’re hurting for cash.”

“Why would you dress up, then?” Stiles asks, bewildered and ignoring his sister.

“I seem to recall you especially enjoying his elf uniform, Stiles.” Lydia smirks around her wineglass of rum and eggnog.

Stiles colors vibrantly and sinks into the couch. “Wstrętna siostra.” Lydia only hushes him with a broader smirk.

“Stiles, take the boy,” she sets down her glass to hand off January. “I’m going to go grab some plates. Derek can help me with the food.” Lydia snaps her fingers and Derek finds himself following like an obedient dog. Lydia doesn’t even turn to address him as she grabs the plates and silverware. She just talks. “My brother is the single most important person to me aside from my son, husband, and our dad. He ranks above my husband usually.” The plates hit the counter with a thunk and she finally faces Derek. She motions to the oven. “He’s into you. My son likes you but he likes everyone, he’s four, he doesn’t count. Stiles likes you. And if you aren’t interested in him like that then you need to make up some bullshit excuse because I’m not going to stand here and watch you lead my baby brother on.”

Derek sets the casserole dish on the oven top and backs up hastily. “I am, I’m.” He gulps nervously because Lydia is gorgeous as she is terrifying. “I’m interested in him. I want to date him.”

She still doesn’t seem appeased. “Stiles doesn’t take relationships lightly. He gets in too deep, too easily. If you can’t handle that, if you don’t want to handle that, then you don’t deserve him.”

“I can handle that. I want to. I probably still don’t deserve him, but I want this.” Derek answers, a little more sure. Because he’s not uncertain about his feelings.

Lydia grins. “Good.” She steps up to Derek, coming up to his collarbone. “Tknij go, a pożałujesz.”

Derek has no idea what she just said but he’s ninety percent certain it was terrifying.

)

Lydia yawns and pets her son’s head. “I think it’s time to call it a night.” She’s got a dazed grin on her face as she surveys her friend’s. “Alison, we’re having a girl’s day this week, just me and you. We’ll leave January with Stiles.”

Stiles doesn’t even protest aside from a mild glare in Lydia’s direction. Derek snorts then stands.

“It was good to meet you,” Alison and Scott say together, each patting his arm before having a hug-fest with the Stilinski’s. They depart quickly, and Lydia hoists January onto her shoulder to take him upstairs, leaving Derek and Stiles alone in the living room.

“I’m glad you came.” Stiles says with a grin.

“I’m glad I did too.” Derek nods as they each step towards the door. “Do you live far from here?”

“I, uh. I live here, actually.” Stiles blushes. “It’s easier on Lydia when Jackson isn’t home, and it’s easier for me to help with January.”

Derek ‘ah’s and grins. “I live like twenty minutes from here.” He chews the inside of his lip, hands deep in his pockets and fiddling with his car keys.

Stiles’ eyes light up, though, and the pink in his cheeks becomes less from embarrassment and more from delight. “I—yeah. Yeah? Yeah, yes.”

Lydia’s voice floats down to them from the upstairs. “Just pretend you’re under a mistletoe, already, and kiss you complete głupki!”

The embarrassed blush comes back but Derek doesn’t give Stiles time to dwell on it, instead grabbing him by the shoulders and hauling him into a kiss. Stiles meeps and mumbles something breathless in Polish but secures his grip on Derek’s arms and kisses back.

When they break apart they share a smile.

)

The drive over isn’t tense or awkward; there’s bubbling sexual tension, and Derek keeps his hand on Stiles’ thigh the whole way, but otherwise it’s tame and simple and nice. Derek waits for Stiles to scramble out of the Camaro before leading him up the rickety steps to his apartment.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone tonight.” He shrugs and lets them inside. “So it’s a bit messy.”

Stiles slips out of his jacket. “I don’t mind.” He tosses the jacket in the vague direction of the coat rack and wraps his arms around Derek. “Bedroom?”

“Bedroom.” He agrees, lifting Stiles by the waist so that his toes are barely touching the ground. He carries Stiles as he walks backward, kicking the bedroom door open with graceful, unpracticed ease. Stiles shoves him towards the bed. “Pushy.”

“Tired of waiting.” Stiles counters as he climbs over Derek’s body. “So fucking tired of waiting.”

Derek leans up and kisses him again, licking into his mouth. “Me too.” He yanks at Stiles’ layered shirts. “Off, now, Jesus Christ.”

Stiles goes up on his knees and strips off both shirts at once. “Sorry, sorry.” But he doesn’t sound sorry at all. He goes for Derek’s shirt next and throws it haphazardly into the room. “C’mon, off with the pants already, I’m dying, I’m literally going to die.”

Derek hushes him with a kiss and fingers slipping down the back of Stiles’ looser jeans. Stiles moans against his lips and grinds down against him. They cease to talk after that, really, side from garbled and halfhearted attempts at commanding each other and thanking each other and begging each other.

They stay as they were when they fell onto the bed, sprawled across it horizontally, Derek’s head hanging off the other side. Stiles preps himself with three fingers, slick and slipper, as his thighs rest on either side of Derek’s hips and with one hand braced against Derek’s chest. Derek watches with a slack jaw, pants and gasps falling him his mouth as frequently as they fall from Stiles’,

“Derek,” Stiles grunts out in warning when, instead of just fucking him, Derek greedily touches his stretched hole, fingertips slipping in and out tauntingly. “If you don’t fucking—fuck.”

Derek thrusts up and inside in one swift movement, his fingers now digging bruises into Stiles’ hips as he starts a relentless rhythm. The bed rocks shakily with the force of their movements, and Stiles keens when his dick finds friction against the little hairs of Derek’s treasure trail.

“Derek, fucking Christ, fuck.”

“Are you gonna come, Stiles?” It’s fast, it’s going to be over so unbelievably fast, but it’s far too good to go on for any longer. “Are you gonna come for me, Gniewomir?”

Stiles moans, though his face scrunches up in a disgruntled expression. His dick twitches and spills out, shooting across Derek’s chest. He pants for air, glaring at Derek, “who the fuck told you my—?”

Stiles’ nails dig into Derek’s skin with anger and it pushes Derek over the edge; his hips shove up in rapid stuttering as he comes inside Stiles. Stiles’ anger is cut off by another drawn out gasp as he squirms with the sensation of being filled.

They slide together, slippery with sweat and Derek had elbowed the lube at one point, getting it everywhere. Stiles doesn’t care though, shower be damned, and lays on Derek to nuzzle and kiss at his face. “That was good.”

“That was fucking. Wow.” Derek snickers against Stiles’ face, kissing him gently on the lips. “That was.”

Stiles grins and cups his face. “Can I stay?”

“Of course.” Derek rolls them over to the pillows so that they can lay like normal people. “Shower in the morning, though.” He holds Stiles against him. “I’m also deeply invested in the environment so we better shower together. To save water.”

Stiles pulls back a bit and grins. “That was a terrible joke and I might just love you for it.”

Derek lights up, feeling his cheeks pink. “Good.”

Stiles snickers. They shift and toss and turn until they’re comfortable and still touching. “Did Lydia tell you how to pronounce my name?”

Derek grins. “Maybe.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “She’s evil.”

Derek laughs. “It’s okay, I’ll only use it when you really deserve it.”

“It’s not fair because I don’t even know your last name.”

They both tense; Stiles even coughs awkwardly.

“We did this kind of ridiculously out of order, huh?”

“Just a bit.” Derek agrees.

Silence stretches again, and Derek can feel the tension in Stiles’ skin.

“Go on a date with me. Tomorrow. It’ll be ridiculous but even if we have to get gas station food and go sit on my porch, it’ll work.”

Stiles grins. “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Aniolek — little angel  
> Braciszek — little brother/brat  
> Niewdzięczna siostra nigdy mnie nie docenia — Ungrateful sister, never appreciates me  
> Przystojniak — Hunk/handsome/hottie  
> Wstrętna siostra — Awful sister (in an endearing manner, sort of, kind of.)  
> Tknij go, a pożałujesz — Touch him and you will regret it.  
> Głupki — Idiot/moron in a lighter tone, also plural
> 
> Like I said, I have some sequels planned in which maybe the Polish seems a little more natural!


End file.
